My Lady Sparrow
by Isabella Raven
Summary: Genevieve has woken up aboard the Black Pearl, and Captain Sparrow discovers he got more than just a woman who'd been out wandering after dark.
1. A Midnight Stroll

Disclaimer: Captain Jack Sparrow, the Black Pearl and her crew, none of them are mine. Much as I might like for the captain to be mine, he's not, and I'll return him to those who do own him in much the same shape I borrowed him in. 

Author's Note: Geneviève, Georges, Thérèse, Alexandrie, Paulette and Benoît are mine Oh, and please send reviews to my e-mail: captainisabellaraven@yahoo.com. Thanks! 

~~~ ~~~ 

Geneviève Dominique Moineau crept out of the quiet dark of her brother's house on the island of Martinique, making her way down to the beach it overlooked. Few would mistake the French beauty for the young man she was dressed as, but Geneviève didn't care. Her brother's cast offs were far more comfortable than her own corsetted dresses, and far more suited to her current escapade. She was tired of being cooped up, tired of being the lady of the house, and intended to get some fresh air tonight. Once she gained the beach, she smiled, reaching down to pull off the boots and stockings that encased her feet, wriggling her toes into the soft white sands. A quiet giggle escaped her lips, and she turned to walk down the beach, revelling in the freedom of being without chaperon or watcher, without any of the rules of polite society, or the stiff dresses that made it impossible to breathe. 

She frowned when she saw a ship anchored in the small cove near her home, long boats coming ashore with a silence Geneviève had never associated with sailors. Ducking into the shadows provided by the vegetation, she crept closer, curious now, her hand creeping to the hilt of the dagger she'd taken with her, a precaution that she knew would soothe Paulette's ruffled feathers if the older woman found out her chère fille had gone out alone. She didn't see the man, hidden in the shadows as she was, until he spoke, making her nearly shriek in surprise. 

"Qui est là? Montrez-vous, escroc!" Her voice showed her surprise, coming out more as a squeak than the demanding hiss she'd intended. Geneviève scowled as the man chuckled, responding in kind, his accent impeccable. 

"Ne devriez-vous pas être dans le lit, fille?" She could see the flash of white teeth in a grin, and nearly screeched. 

"J'ai vingt-quatre ans, je ne suis pas fille! Et que faites-vous ici? Le port est de l'autre côté de l'île." 

"I'm a pirate, luv, and I intend to keep my neck the length it is at the moment." The man switched over to English, and Geneviève sighed. 

"Bâtard anglais," she muttered under her breath, a moment before what he said sunk in. "You are a pirate?" She began to back away, her eyes wide, drawing the dagger from its sheath. _Cher Dieu, un pirate. Un pirate anglais. Les anges ci-dessus me protègent..._ She ran into something warm, and a hand reached from behind her to grab her wrist, exerting pressure on it until she dropped the knife. Geneviève struggled, driving her free elbow back into the person's gut, but it had no apparent effect on the pirate's grip. 

"Anamaria, let her loose." The pirate spoke to the person holding her as he reached down to pick up her dagger. "What's your name, mademoiselle?" 

"Qui êtes-vous?" she shot back, her fear quickly being subsumed by anger, dropping back into french. "Que faites-vous ici?" 

"I asked first, luv." 

"Mon nom n'est pas Ôluv'. Je suis Geneviève, vous damne le pirate!" She growled at the chuckle that followed her statement, and would have launched herself at the pirate had she still had her knife. _Pirate sanglant! Je ne suis pas un enfant dont les singeries peuvent être ries._ She glared at him, in lieu of being able to physically quiet that annoying laughter. "Votre nom?" 

He stopped laughing, though she could still see the shine of a smile in the shadows. "Captain Jack Sparrow at your service, mademoiselle." He bowed grandly, and Geneviève rolled her eyes. "Now what shall I do with you? You know my name, you've seen my face." He paused, and she felt a trickle of chill travel down her spine. 

"I will not tell anyone. I give you my word. Just let me go home. S'il vous plaît?" She ruthlessly shoved down the feeling of fear, controlling the urge to shiver, despite the sultry warmth of the night. 

He didn't say anything, and Geneviève felt the fear creeping back up, threatening to swallow in its black depths. 

~~~ 

Jack watched the girl, the dark eyes that regarded him with no little amount of fear in their depths. Despite that, she was not running, nor had she panicked, like many women might, encountering a pirate. _Of course, this isn't the first lady you've seen face down a pirate without turning into a ninny, Jack. Though Elizabeth did know about the code. Somehow, I doubt this one does._ He smiled slightly. "Why should I trust your word?" 

Geneviève responded with a string of french curses, anger blazing up to replace the fear in her expression, bringing up her fists to rest them on generous hips. " I am not a bloody pirate to lie and cheat, and go back on my word. Though I can I trust you to not just say I can go home, then shoot me in the back as I leave?" She spoke in rapid french, but Jack caught most of it, and he frowned. 

"I don't make a habit of shooting women in the first place, nor do I shoot people in the back. And though I may lie and cheat, I do not go back on the letter of my word. If I say I will let you return home unharmed, then I will let you leave alive and in one piece, without a mark on your skin...." 

"And if I asked for my dagger back, would you give it to me?" 

Jack glared at her for interrupting him a moment, before looking the dagger over. It was a nice piece of work, the blade polished and sharp, the hilt wrapped in silver wire with a ruby set into the crossguard. His eyebrows shot up. This was not a dagger that would be carried by the simple girl he'd first though she was. 

"Well?" She had raised an eyebrow in question, and was tapping her foot with impatience. 

He shrugged. "Probably not, luv." 

"Vous petit fils arrogant d'un ver! I told you, my name is _Geneviève!_" Her voice rose to an angry shriek, loud enough, Jack was sure, to wake the dead. He cursed, tucking the dagger behind his belt to grab her, his free hand coming down over her mouth. She screamed again, biting down, and Jack cursed again, wondering what he was going to do with her. He certainly couldn't let her return to her home, not with her glaring bloody murder up at him. He rather enjoyed living still. 

With another muttered curse, he released her mouth long enough to grab the dagger again, the hilt connecting solidly beneath her ear, and stilling the scream before it could properly form. Her weight collapsed against him, and Jack made a quick decision, tossing her over his shoulder to haul her to one of the long boats, ignoring Anamaria's skeptical glance and Gibb's mutterings about women on board being bad luck. He couldn't just leave her on the beach, not the way she was dressed, especially if she was more than a simple serving girl or maid sneaking out for a bit of an adventure. 

~~~ ~~~ 

Author's Note Two, the translations: I thought translations of the French used in this story would be useful, and you'll find them after each chapter. 

Qui est là? Montrez-vous, escroc! - Who's there? Show yourself, rogue! 

chère fille - dear girl 

Ne devriez-vous pas être dans le lit, fille? - Shouldn't you be in bed, girl? 

J'ai vingt-quatre ans, je ne suis pas fille! Et que faites-vous ici? Le port est de l'autre côté de l'île. - I am twenty-four, I am not a girl! And what are you doing here? The port is on the other side of the island. 

Bâtard anglais - English bastard 

Cher Dieu, un pirate. Un pirate anglais. Les anges ci-dessus me protègent... - Dear God, a pirate. An english pirate. Angels above protect me... 

Qui êtes-vous? - Who are you? 

Mon nom n'est pas 'luv'. Je suis Geneviève, vous damne le pirate! - My name is not 'luv'. I am Geneviève, you damned pirate! 

Pirate sanglant! Je ne suis pas un enfant dont les singeries peuvent être ries. - Bloody pirate! I am not a child whose antics can be laughed at. 

Votre nom? - Your name? 

Vous petit fils arrogant d'un ver! - You arrogant little son of a worm! 


	2. On Board the Black Pearl

Disclaimer: Captain Jack Sparrow, the Black Pearl and her crew, none of them are mine. Much as I might like for the captain to be mine, he's not, and I'll return him to those who do own him in much the same shape I borrowed him in. 

Author's Note: Geneviève, Georges, Thérèse, Alexandrie, Paulette and Benoît are mine. Oh, and please send reviews to my e-mail: captainisabellaraven@yahoo.com. Thanks! 

~~~ ~~~ 

Geneviève woke with a throbbing headache that wasn't helped by the rocking of the soft bed beneath her. _Basculer? Ce n'est pas exact._ She pried open her eyes, and an explosive growl emerged from her throat, followed by a whimper of pain that the expression had caused. _Ce pirate m'a enlevé! Ce petit fils arrogant d'un ver!_ She sat up carefully, biting back a moan when the motion of the ship beneath her sent a bolt of pain searing through her skull. 

She looked around, noting the furnishings and the general wealth of the room, realizing she had to be in the captain's cabin. Her eyes widened briefly before they narrowed, and a low growl rumbled in her chest. _Il est un homme mort!_

She stood with the same care she'd sat up, and made her way around the room, searching for her dagger, or any weapon she could use, casting nervous glances over at the door everytime she made an inadvertant noise. _Mary, mère de Dieu, de montre au-dessus de moi, et de subsistance ce petit fils arrogant d'un ver loin de moi._ She sent a quick prayer heavenward, and continued to search, a smile lighting her face as she found a knife. Not her dagger, but a knife nonetheless. She tucked it into her belt before creeping towards the door, peering out at the deck, and the men working there. _Sacré Dieu! Il y a une femme!_

She shook her head to clear it of the amazement, and regretted it instantly, as her head began to pound in earnest, and her stomach threatened to send up what little remained of her dinner from the night before. With a muffled squeak, she bolted out of the cabin for the rail, leaning over to consign the contents of her belly to the sea. Spitting to rid her mouth of the awful taste of bile, she sensed eyes on her back, and slowly turned. The entire crew was staring at her, with the sole exception of the man at the wheel, whistling as he steered his ship. Through clear blue ocean, without the smallest island in sight. 

"Mon Dieu! What have you done?" She glared at the pirate, her eyes flashing with anger, her hands curling into fists that she was tempted to use to wipe that grin off his face. "Answer me!" 

~~~ 

Jack looked down at the angry shout, finding a pair of dark blue eyes glaring up at him, though his eyes strayed lower, to the front of the shirt, which had gaped open just enough to give him an excellent view of... 

"Vous avez perverti le petit ver!" She raised one hand to gather the front of the shirt, closing it over her generous bosum, glaring at him as he grinned. "I am not some dockside whore for you to stare at in such a fashion! And you have yet to answer my question. What have you done?" 

"It appears as though I've kidnapped you, luv." 

"Can you not remember a name over the course of a single night? My name is Geneviève. Not 'luv', and I pray you remember that, m'sieur ver. It would be very poor for your health should you forget my name again." 

Jack raised his eyebrows. "And I, mademoiselle, am Captain Sparrow, not m'sieur ver." 

"I shall endevor to remember that, but I fear I shall have a very poor memory should my name be forgotten again." The damnable woman smiled sweetly, before stalking elegantly back towards his cabin, her hips swaying slightly in an unintentional invitation. 

Noticing the crew gawking, he frowned, and made a mental note to keep Geneviève in his cabin, or with him or Anamaria at all times. He rather doubted she realized what she was doing... _Or she might be very well aware of what she's doing, and is trying to get to you, Jack._ He shook his head, shouting for the crew to get back to work. 

~~~ 

Geneviève looked around the cabin for something to destroy, preferably something valuable to the pirate. And not something she could use, such as the assorted weapons she'd found in her second search of the cabin, now that her belly seemed more inclined to cooperate with her, instead of threatening rebellion with every step. She spun at the knock on the door, her eyes narrowing as she called out, "What is it?" 

"Captain said to see if you were all right, miss." The man muttered something under his breath after he spoke, and Geneviève shook her head, moving towards the door with an idea forming in her mind. 

"Tell le capitaine that this cabin will suit me until I am returned to Martinique. But it will have to be cleaned, as it is quite too filthy at the moment to be fit living for any but a worm. And le capitaine will have to find someplace to sleep while I am aboard. Oh, and I require clean clothing, a brush and comb, and a mirror. And a properly cooked meal. That is all, for now." She smirked when she heard the sudden fit of coughing outside, and went to sit on the chest that was situated at the foot of the bed. "You will regret this transgression greatly, capitaine." 

~~~ 

Jack stared at Gibbs when the man relayed the message from Geneviève, and swore when he heard the damnable woman was trying to throw him out of his own cabin. "I'll be damned if I let her toss me out of my own cabin.... Anamaria!" He waited only until the woman had come up, and handed the wheel to her, stalking towards his cabin. That bloody woman was going to learn that no one told Captain Jack Sparrow what he had to do. 

"Ah, le capitaine. I see you have come to clean the cabin yourself. That is quite kind of you, but completely uneccessary. You could have had one of the crew, la femme perhaps, clean it. I am sure you have more important things to attend to." Geneviève spoke as soon as he stepped in the door, rising from her seat on his chest. "And I would much rather la femme in here when I change than you. Your man did tell you I require a clean change of clothing, did he not? And I do not see a comb or brush, or a mirror with you. Ah, I know, you have someone searching. I do hope they find..." 

"Would you be quiet?" Jack got something thrown at him, and ducked, avoiding getting a knife through the skull by inches. "Bloody woman! Are you trying to kill me?" 

"Oui. You are a pest. A very large and annoying pest, I might add, but still a pest. You knocked me out and stole me from my home. You have insulted me, stolen my property, treated me like some common whore, and have not listened to my needs if I am to remain on board your ship! I will not tolerate this any longer. You will treat with the respect due a woman of breeding, and you will ensure that my demands are met, or you can turn this ship around, and take me back to Martinique. If you do not, I will make your life a living hell until you have." Her dark eyes were sparkling with anger, her hands clenched into fists that were settled on either hip as she glared at him, one foot tapping with impatience. 

Jack was nonplussed by her frank statement that she was indeed trying to kill him, though his temper began to simmer as she continued to enumerate his faults. "Excuse me, mademoiselle, if I have not lived up to your expectations. This is a pirate ship, not subject to the whims of any woman, no matter how pretty she may be. You will return to Martinique only when, and if, I decide to drop anchor there again. Until then you can either sleep on the floor, or you may sleep with the crew, but you will not be evicting me from my cabin." 

He watched as her eyes narrowed. "You have made a terrible error, ver de capitaine. I am not some weak-willed woman you can intimidate, and mark me well, you will regret your words before I am returned to Martinique." 

Jack smiled, his trademark grin, as he backed out. "No, mademoiselle. It is not I who shall regret what they have said." 

~~~ 

Basculer? Ce n'est pas exact. - Rocking? That isn't right. 

Ce pirate m'a enlevé! - That pirate kidnapped me! 

Ce petit fils arrogant d'un ver! - That arrogant little son of a worm! 

Il est un homme mort! - He is a dead man! 

Mary, mère de Dieu, de montre au-dessus de moi, et de subsistance ce petit fils arrogant d'un ver loin de moi. - Mary, mother of God, watch over me, and keep that arrogant little son of a worm away from me. 

Il y a une femme! - There is a woman! 

Vous avez perverti le petit ver! - You perverted little worm! 

m'sieur ver - mr. worm 

le capitaine - the captain 

ver de capitaine - captain worm 


	3. Cook?

Geneviève glowered at the dark-skinned woman who was standing against the door to the cabin, dark eyes watching the french woman. She had brought a change of clothing for Geneviève, along with a message from the captain. She was to make them dinner! 

"Bêtard arrogant. I do not cook for anyone." Her mutterings were greeted with a snort, and a twist of the dark woman's lips. "How dare he command me to do such a thing! It is beneath my station..." 

"Dere are ot'er t'ings you could be doin' on a ship, missy. It ain't a free ride, ma fille, an' cookin' one o' de least humiliatin' t'ings he could ha' you be doin'." The dark woman shrugged. "Up to you what you do wit' it." 

Geneviève stared at the woman, feeling heat creeping up her cheeks, and knowing she had to be as red as the scarf she'd been given to tie back her hair. "Un Dieu m'accordent la pitié, he wouldn't! You will tell me true, he would not ask..." She trailed off, half-embarressed by the question, half uncertain of the words she was looking for. 

A half-grin appeared on the other woman's face, and she shook her head. "Not you. You ain't de type 'e'd want t' tumble." 

Geneviève wondered why she felt more anger at that comment than relief, a scowl forming on her face. _Je devrais être heureux il ne me voudrais pas... Je... mais pourquoi, mon Dieu, suis- je suis- sentiment dérangé qu'un pirate sanglant ne voudrait pas... la dégringolade... je ?_

"I... will cook for him, but not for the whole crew." She raised her chin, looking down her nose at the other woman, her expression almost daring her to contradict her. 

The dark woman shrugged. "It on you' head, missy. I ain't gonna worry about it." She turned away, leaving the cabin to Geneviève so she could change. 

With a muffled shriek, she threw the clothing across the room, her features set in a mutinous expression. A moment later, she retrieved the clothing with a growl, shaking them out to reveal a skirt, shirt, and the red scarf, along with a boned bodice that made her eyes narrow, and a growl emerge from her throat. No one was putting her into one of those, and if the captain thought she'd wear a skirt before she was returned to her home, he would soon realize his mistake. 

Her expression changed again a moment later, despair flashing across her face. _Et que le pirate fera-t-il quand il me trouve dehors ne peut pas faire cuire? Ah, Paulette, je me souhaite n'avais pas été un tel imbécile la nuit passée, et seul étais sorti!_

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the clothing a moment, before she grimaced, and pulled off her brother's shirt, pulling the shirt the pirates had provided her, and tying back her thick, dark hair with the scarf. If the pirate died from her cooking, so be it. At least then she might be able to get away from them - even if only through the mercy of death. 

~~~ ~~~ 

Jack watched Geneviève come out of his cabin, a grim expression on her face, and head for the galley. At least the French woman was listening to him now. He grinned, whistling a jaunty tune as he continued to steer the Pearl towards Tortuga. He owed the crew a few days in port after their latest adventure. 

He watched as Cotton came flying up the stairs from the galley, a shouted oath following him. Apparently, the wench didn't take kindly to others in her kitchen. Though she did put up quite a fuss about doing work. _And then she agreed to cook just for you, Jack._ That thought brought back the grin that had begun to fade. _Of course she did. You're Captain Jack Sparrow! What woman could resist you?_

~~~ ~~~ 

Geneviève looked over the food with a critical eye. It did look vaguely edible, and it smelled decent. Though she wouldn't vouch for the flavor. _Non. Il y a une raison le cuisinier menacé pour me jeter en l'air hors de sa cuisine sur mon oreille, aucune matière que j'étais la soeur du maître. _

"It smells delicious, luv." 

She spun, startled at the voice behind her, her eyes narrowing at the grin and the nickname from the pirate captain. "Do you not have any manners at all? You are supposed to knock before you enter a room!" Her voice was sharp with fear and exhaustion, though she barely noticed. Anger still coursed in her blood, and kept her on her feet. 

The pirate frowned slightly, peering into her face a moment. "My apologies, mademoiselle. Shall I exit, and make another attempt at a proper entry?" His tone bordered on the sarcastic, and she shook her head, keeping her shoulders from slumping from sheer will power. She would not let this pirate see any weakness. 

"Non. It is pointless. I will leave you to your meal, while I find someplace more sutible to sleep than on your floor." She tried to brush past him, only to have him catch her arm. She glared up at him, fear and anger warring for the primary emotion she felt, unaware of how clearly they showed in her eyes. 

He looked down at her a moment, before speaking softly. "I insist you stay for dinner, m'lady. You haven't eaten all day." The soft tone and concern in his expression simply made her anger flare, and she yanked her arm from his grasp. 

"Non. I will not eat with an arrogant worm like you." She tried once again to leave, but he merely reached out to wrap an arm around her waist, turning her around to face the cabin again. 

"I insist. Eating a meal with a pirate will not kill you, luv." He smiled at her, and Geneviève glared back. She wasn't sure if she hated his over-familiar manners, or the thrill she'd felt travel down her spine when he'd piked her up to turn her around more. And no matter what he said, she had no intention of eating a single bite of what she cooked, and run the risk of being ill at the best. 

"I am not hungry." It was a thin excuse, and her stomach contridicted her statement by grumbling loudly. "And I wish nothing to do with you." 

He smiled, and shook his head, a warm hand in the small of her back guiding her towards the table. She found herself seated next to him, one of his arms draped over the back of the chair to prevent her from going anywhere. Her eyes widened as he reached out to carve a slice from the slightly burnt haunch of meat, offering it to her on the point of his knife. 

"I am not hungry, I told you." She shook her head. "You do not have to share your meal with me." 

He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting patiently for her to take the meat. "It wouldn't be poisoned, now would it, luv? Perhaps that's why you don't want to eat any of it." 

Geneviève snorted. "Non. What would that buy me but a swift death? I am in no mood to die." 

"Then eat." His arm on the back of the chair kept her trapped, unless she did as he told her to. She glared at him for a long moment before reluctantly taking a small bite from the piece of meat. 

"Now let me go." She tried to push away from the table, and he simply shook his head, keeping her firmly in place, his hand now curling around her shoulder. 

"You have to eat more than that, Geneviève." 

~~~ ~~~ 

Translations: 

bâtard arrogant - arrogant bastard ma fille - my girl un dieu m'accordent la pitié - God grant me mercy Je devrais être heureux il ne me voudrais pas... Je... mais pourquoi, mon Dieu, suis- je suis- sentiment dérangé qu'un pirate sanglant ne voudrait pas... la dégringolade... je ? - I should be glad he would not want me... I am... but why, my God, am I feeling upset that a bloody pirate would not want to... tumble... me? Et que le pirate fera-t-il quand il me trouve dehors ne peut pas faire cuire? Ah, Paulette, je me souhaite n'avais pas été un tel imbécile la nuit passée, et seul étais sorti! - And what will the pirate do when he finds out I can not cook? Oh, Paulette, I wish I had not been such a fool last night, and gone out alone! Non. Il y a une raison le cuisinier menacé pour me jeter en l'air hors de sa cuisine sur mon oreille, aucune matière que j'étais la soeur du maître. - No. There is a reason the cook threatened to toss me out of his kitchen on my ear, no matter that I was the master's sister. 


End file.
